


Negotiating the Spark

by DinobotGlitch, Xobit



Series: Greek'verse [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007), Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Courtship, Eventual Romance, F/F, Historical Mashup, Humor, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-04-24 18:46:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4931098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinobotGlitch/pseuds/DinobotGlitch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xobit/pseuds/Xobit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Warlord of Kaon has long sought a mate, but what will he do when he discovers his intended is from Iacon, the city-state that most ardently objects to Kaon's very existence even in peacetime? And how will this intended mate respond to the inevitable proposal?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Oracle

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't set in any single continuity, but rather it is a haphazard mix of them (mainly G1/IDW, TFA and TFP) along with parallels to Greek mythology. The basic characteristics of most characters are easily recognizable as G1/IDW but body designs incorporate all of the aforementioned series as we see fit. Xobit wrote Megatron's parts, DinobotGlitch wrote Optronix's parts, and both played a variety of support characters throughout the story.
> 
> For anyone who may recognize this story, yes, it IS a remake of the original NtS which was posted by us a long time ago. We like to think we've improved a lot since then and wanted the completed story to reflect that improvement.
> 
> Time measurement approximations:  
> breem - minute  
> joor - hour  
> orn - day  
> cycle - week  
> groon - month  
> vorn - year

Megatron, the great and mighty Warlord of Kaon, was a very, very lonely mech and something needed to be done, he decided. He had searched his home city-state for a suitable mate all throughout his extensive existence; he held countless galas and feasts and walked the streets of settlements large and small, always seeking but never finding one who could be his equal in all ways. Expanding his search to the allied city-states of Vos and Simfur gave him no quarter either, much to his dismay. Even with full permission to search the ranks of the Helixian monks (who were neutral and thusly open to any who would seek them), he was still left wanting! And of course the Oracle of Praxus turned him away every time he made pilgrimage to her, with no word as to why, or any hint of when he might have an answer to his question.

There was nowhere left open to him to search anymore – the rest of Cybertron’s many city-states held fast their doors against him thanks to wars of ages past. That the wars were not of his doing proved to be of little consequence. He was at a loss. The realization of his dwindling chances threw everything in stark relief and Megatron knew that there was only one course of action left: he had to return to the Oracle. It had come to the point that even his sternest advisors finally agreed that he would be best off just sitting there until the prophet had no choice but to give him an answer, even if said answer was that he was destined to be alone. It would be better than more of the tortuous and uncertain wait he had already endured!

The whole journey - first by skimmer to the bottom-most edge of Vos, and then by pede through five orns worth of wilderness between Cybertropolis and Tarn - with his four-mech squad of chassisguards and his oldest friend was so routine by that point that he didn’t even feel relief when they were met with a formal escort just inside of the Praxian border that overlapped the Rust Sea. They were taken in hospitably enough, however, and that soothed some of his agitation; in short order, they were bathed and refueled by frail looking servants with pure white optics to match their glossy paint schemes. Once they were clean, they were ushered into a shallow boat that took them of its own accord to the pale palace built atop the largest island in the archipelago that Praxus had claimed before recorded times for itself.

By that time, the first of their two moons has just begun to rise. The water reflected it beautifully and lit the way for them to see their destination within only a few breems. It was enough of a distraction that the trip was quiet, for which the Kaonite warlord was grateful. It helped him settle his nerves so that he could (hopefully) make it through this without just losing his processor.

They landed and docked the boat in hardly any time at all, but once the group reached the bottom stair of the moonlit structure, Megatron had to leave his companions behind - only the inquirer was permitted to enter. He always hated that part because sometimes it was an orn or more before the Oracle would see him and the nerves were that much worse for not having anyone to speak to in the meantime… Still, his resolve was unwavering and he mounted the steps with self-assurance after one last prayer to Unicron (and any other god who might have mercy on his weary spark, for that matter). He _would_ have his answer this time!

It was almost anti-climatic that he barely entered the main hall of the palace before an acolyte appeared to divest him of his cape and weapons and then guide him into the Oracle’s water room.

The aging, veiled femme was already waiting, waist deep in the gently rolling waters from the ocean outside and with her back to him, as it had always been in the hundreds of times he had come before. Megatron’s spark clenched painfully. He felt acutely the sting of her silent refusal when she did not acknowledge him. Was she rejecting him again? If he could just know where his mate-to-be was…! That was all he needed! Surely it wasn’t too much to ask of one who saw all?

He forced himself to utter the same request he always came with regardless of her attentions, knowing full well that she could hear him. His voice rough with desperation as warm waters swelled up around his pedes and then receded in gentle waves, as if coaxing the words from him.

“Please, Oracle… Please tell me where I can find the mech I’ll spend my vorns with. A name, a face, a location… Anything. Gods, just tell me he _exists_ …”

Silent and motionless the femme remained as he shifted from pede to pede after issuing his request, but he refused to walk away. He would wait as long as it took. Until the end of the world and beyond if that was what the gods wished of him!

It felt like ages passed before the Oracle turned, her veil swirling unnaturally around her with the movement, and Megatron felt struck by the piercing optics that glowed brightly despite the obstructive fabric that covered them. Wordless still, she strode from the pool and passed him, but something told him to follow even as his instinct told him that she was only going to do what she had always done. He had grown accustomed to it, after all…

As they left the water room, the Kaonite ruler spared a thought to be bemused by the fact that the Oracle left no water trail, yet he left slippery pede prints for some ways as they walked. They went down one hall, then another, then one more, leading further and further into the palace than he had thought outsiders were allowed. At the end of the third hall, they came upon a winding staircase, which they climbed all the way up to where it opened up into a broad, wall-less platform with a single raised dais at the center.

The moons were both in the sky, he noted, and a small, hopelessly optimistic part of Megatron wondered if that was what the Oracle had been waiting for. He had never gotten this far with her before, but surely she would give him an answer if she was willing to guide him this far…

She never spoke, but took her place beside the pedestal after gesturing for him to wait where he was. She raised her slender arms with their timeworn hands and sharp, spindly fingers in graceful gesticulation that seemed to cut a shape from the very atmosphere, and Megatron watched, transfixed as shimmering lines of power followed her limbs, raising a viewing portal such as he had never before seen from the surface between them. Through it, the visage of a young mech of red and blue came into focus, bright optics of a very telling shade shining with mirth at something only he could see. Almost like an epiphany, a name came to mind: Optronix. His mate-to-be’s name was Optronix. He looked so real and so… so _right there_ that Megatron thought he could simply call out to him and be heard. His hand shook as he raised it to touch the image, only for it to flicker and fade as he disrupted it.

“ _That_ is my mate?” he asked the Oracle, only getting another Look for his efforts. He was aware of the volatile mix of emotions (anger, excitement, distress, relief, frustration) that played out across his tone and features, but he couldn’t help it any more than he had been able to help not getting an answer before now. It was useless to try and berate the Oracle, anyway… He had no jurisdiction here on Praxus and it would bar him from what help the techno-magi could and would give in the future if he tried. Even he would not have the gall to attempt it.

He had more pressing concerns though, for the mech he had been shown was very clearly Iaconian. He was a fine young mech, too, tall and lithe – still gangly but obviously well on his way to a fully developed warrior build. But he was just that: a mechling barely out of his younglinghood and not yet adorned with the red cape of a fully fledged warrior or even the deep blue of the scholar that Iacon was so well known for.

And lest he try to forget, the mech was an Iaconian; a native of his most bitterly fought adversary. If he had been anything but that, this would not be nearly so daunting a task!

The gears in his mind were turning, nevertheless. He was fool enough to think he could possibly have any hope of getting his mate without shedding energon and coolants for him and desperate enough to try. A peace treaty such as he had been contemplating for a while now with many of the city-states was an option, but something told him that convincing Iacon of his sudden desire for one (not to mention the price he would ask for it – a mate of one’s choosing was not often used as currency anymore) would be just as hard as convincing his own stubborn nobles that it would be good for them all.

Megatron bowed his helm in equal parts respect and gratitude to the Oracle and thanked her for what she had been able to give him before retreating down the stairs and once more through the hallowed halls to where the same acolyte from before waited with his belongings. He donned his dark violet mantle with ease and took his weapons back from yet another set of strangely pale hands before taking his leave of the place.

Even once he had convinced Iacon of his sincerity, he thought as he descended the stairs to where his companions waited, he would still have to convince the mech himself. After all, it would all be for naught if theirs was a loveless bond… A proper courting once he had him, maybe, since just telling him they were meant for one another would amount to nothing at all.

Or wooing, perhaps? Hmm. Yeesss… He could woo the lithe mech. Optronix was old enough that a secret admirer would be thrilling, but young enough that gifts and attention still held sway over his feelings, surely? Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all. The rush he felt made him think himself more alive than he had been in decavorns. For that alone, this could be worth it. At last he had an answer, a goal, maybe even a happy ending…

His guards were upon him before he even reached the bottom of the stairs, cutting into his thoughts with questions and gentle but insistent hands on his arms and shoulders and chest. There was the familiar tingle of a routine scan from the medic of his chassisguards, Breakdown, and it was a comfort to his frazzled nerves to hear Wildrider’s relieved chuckle that he was just as whole as when he parted from them. At the same time, Starscream, dear, obnoxious winged menace that he was, got right up in his face, golden optics searching his own ruby ones with a desperation that made him ache. If anything might have made him want to drag out giving them the answer they were all waiting for, that look slew it on the spot. Starscream had been waiting just as long as he, after all. His wait had been filled with more frustration than sadness though, for the Oracle had long ago told him he would only find his mate after the Warlord of Kaon came into his own and the constant failures and rejections had worn him down after so long in limbo.

“He is from Iacon,” he said softly, the words enough explanation all on their own. “We’ll begin preparations once we return to Kaon.” He touched Starscream’s shoulder when the mech stepped back from him, a whirlwind of emotions flickering across his features ranging from abject terror to fierce elation. “It won’t be long now, Starscream. Come; let’s be away from here…”

The next few orns flew by as Starscream, always quick to bounce back from surprises, blabbered on and on as they trekked back to Vos, talking about how wonderful his mate would be and he couldn’t wait to meet him; he hoped he was a scientist and liked flying (maybe he was a flyer, even?) but whatever he was or whatever he did, he would love him with all his spark. The Vosian spoke at length about how they would sire many creations together, as well, which Megatron had to laugh at because Starscream didn’t even know the mech and he was already picking out designations for an entire fleet of their theoretical littles. Amusement aside, it was something of a relief when they made it back to their skimmer and started a course for Kaon. At least then he had an excuse to step away so that he could make a call to the captain of his palace guard while Starscream and his trinemates (freshly reunited and sharing in his excitement over the prospect of a mate for one of them) flew alongside the vessel.

A sharp grin stole over the Warlord’s features when the mech he sought answered almost immediately, and he leaned back in his chair with an air of dark delight.

“Steelspark, we’ll be returning shortly. Summon Barricade and Soundwave to meet me in my chambers as soon as we land. I have a very special mission for them…” he all but purred, and a predatory sort of satisfaction settled low in his fuel pump as he cut the line after Steelspark’s acquiescing bow and waited for Starscream to return from his flight with his trine in tow.

They had much to plot, after all.


	2. The First Gift

Soundwave didn’t often question his lord’s orders, but even he could not help but wonder at the logic behind the command to complete a preliminary peace treaty document and take it to Iacon. The animosity between his home state and Iacon hardly seemed worth dealing with without some actual motive, and Megatron made no effort to offer one until after Spymaster Barricade arrived, looking harried and apologetic at his own tardiness. Things made much more sense when he was told that his companion for the venture would, in fact, be the black mech, and their off-the-records orders were to find and observe a mech of very specific description and designation.

Within the groon, things with Iacon’s officials were underway and they were left much to their own devices while the council discussed the matter privately. Soundwave used this to his advantage; he spent much of his time in the public library while Barricade got chummy with several of their escorts to engender trust that would hopefully last beyond the negotiations of the peace treaty. They would need allies on the inside in order to accomplish what it was that their lord asked of them…

After a little bit of digging, Soundwave discovered a match to all the information Megatron was able to provide and if what public records showed was accurate, the blue and white mech had to laugh at the irony. The mech they sought, Optronix, was a relative of High Scholar Ratbat - one of the officials who had been most skeptical and cynical of their sudden plea for peace. He did not blame the High Scholar, for it was due to the loss of his brother in a skirmish that Kaon had participated in that the mech distrusted them so. The information had practical uses, of course; knowing his family history made it really easy to guess their target’s current location. Less than an orn later, he had traced Optronix’s metaphorical pede prints to the esteemed Iacon Academy.

Optronix was quite popular at the academy he was attending, the ambassadors found. He was a good student and warrior both, holding excellent marks in all of his classes and seeming to have equal interest spread about among the lot. A little odd for an Iaconian, but perhaps times had changed since they last communicated freely with the state. That was what they assumed, anyway, so Soundwave only made a small note of it before moving on. It was with more interest that he noted how strangely carefree Optronix was, given that he had been orphaned and then placed in the care of the extremely strict and unrelenting High Scholar at a young age. He had no love interests either, though he was not lacking in admirers from what Soundwave and Barricade could determine.

Most of his ‘friends’ were of the higher echelons of society, befitting a noble of Optronix’ lineage; in watching him interact with them, however, the two Kaonites were treated to the rare sight of Optronix behaving in an even remotely distant manner with another person – a fact that they would come to appreciate in the orns ahead. He was polite, but their relationships were shallow on both sides. They were keeping up appearances as their families dictated and nothing more.

His _real_ friends, on the other hand, were a fine small group of misfits that also attended the Academy in different fields. The medic intern, Ratchet, was possessing of a fiery temper that even few Kaonites could match when properly incensed. He was balanced out by a budding engineer named Wheeljack that always seemed to be close by him – or possibly it was the other way around? Soundwave couldn’t be sure without closer observation. Wheeljack was well known for his (literally) explosive nature in the labs, after all, just as much as he was known for his kind and compassionate attitude out of them. They were polar opposites that smoothed over Optronix’s own and helped keep him collected when he got excited about something.

After them, one of Optronix’s longest standing relations was Perceptor, the youngest-ever scientist to graduate from the Iaconian Institute of Science and quite possibly one of the most intelligent mechs of his age. Perceptor filled a slot on the ‘true friend’ roster even though he was also instructor to some of them, and seemed almost as if kin to Optronix. Optronix and the others called him ‘Percy’ a lot, a pleasant little moniker that Soundwave adopted for use in his extensive notes on the group.

The last two of the lot, to the horror of both Kaonites, were two femme exchange students out of Yuss, the blasphemous femme state. Luckily, the femmes were a bonded pair and so posed no threat to the Warlord’s Intended. That fact did not make them feel much better though, because the more outspoken of the two, Firestar, hung just as often from Optronix’s arm as she did from her mate’s.

All in all, their leader could have done much worse in his mate-to-be.

* * *

It took them almost half a groon after reaching Iacon to establish themselves and gather the necessary information, but Soundwave finally felt confident in saying that they were ready to start the next phase of their lord’s plan. This phase, naturally, involved Barricade sneaking about the academy in the dark of the night with a large package under one arm - a task that the Spymaster reveled in. Avoiding various security measures, it wasn’t long before he slipped casually into Optronix’s dorm room. The first moon had just reached its apex in the sky and the warm glow of the second was visible through the open window on one end of the open front room as he closed the door behind him.

As decreed by Warlord Megatron, they had reported all of Optronix’s scholastic activities, even the extracurricular ones, in addition to a list of his friends and mannerisms. When the Kaonite lord had heard that his Intended was to begin training with energy bows and the High Scholar had refused him one of his own, he had seen fit to provide one himself. Optronix likely wouldn’t know or care, but this gift would cost more than a typical noble’s estate would earn in an entire groon in materials alone, much less craftmechship and styling… No, they knew enough of Optronix now to know that he would just be thrilled to be in possession of the weapon. If he could treasure a wilted little crystal that some underclassmech had given him as thanks for helping with their homework, he could treasure anything.

He just wished he could see the mech’s expression when he found it!

* * *

Optronix groaned and rolled over onto his front when his internal alarm clock went off, telling him he had exactly eight breems to get his aft up and make sure he was ready for his classes before he had to get out the door. Someorn, he was going to make a law that said instruction wasn’t allowed to start until mid-cycle at least!

Despite his mental musings, the red and blue mech pushed himself up and slithered off the berth pedes first. No matter how much he might want to catch an extra joor, he wanted to pass his classes more, and he definitely didn’t want another call from his dear uncle. Ratbat got upset with him when he was even a few kliks late to class and of course the High Scholar always managed to catch him when the lectures he delighted in administering would cut into his allotted weapons practice times… It was the only way the mech could truly deny him the right to study and practice the warrior arts.

So lost in his thoughts was he that Optronix didn’t realize he had tripped over something on his way to his desk until he was lying faceplate down in the middle of the room, a groan of pain and disorientation reverberating in his vocalizer.

“What the slag?”

The young mech pushed himself onto hands and knees and turned around to figure out what had tripped him up, only to pause in surprise when a rectangular, ornately decorated box of crimson and obsidian that definitely had not been there when he went into recharge greeted his optics. He had expected his bag, perhaps, or possibly an empty energon cube (his room was messier than he would have liked, but he would get around to cleaning it eventually!), but not this! Whatever ‘this’ was… It was very obvious to him that someone had snuck in and left it, but who? And why? Better yet, _how_ , with all the security they had on the campus, was it possible?

Curiosity insisted that he should open it right away and find out, but suspicion had him fetching Wheeljack from down the hall to check it out first. Logic said he should call security, of course, but then Ratbat would find out and he didn’t want the mental anguish that would bring… And besides, it was a gift, right? A gift for _him_. Ratbat would have it destroyed immediately without even thinking twice about the contents.

Once Wheeljack deemed the box safe, however, all other thoughts were banished. Optronix all but dove for it with an excited noise. He wasted no time undoing the clasps so that he could push the lid of the surprisingly heavy material up to reveal the item inside, and distinctly heard both his and Wheeljack’s squeaks of identical shock at the absolutely _gorgeous_ bow that lay pillowed in the soft crimson material that lined the case. Optronix didn’t care about anything else - not even his classes - as his optics roved hungrily over the sleek weapon that bore identical colors to its case. The only thing that could have made it more obvious that it was a custom-made weapon would have been a bright, flashing sign and its own personal announcer, he thought as he picked it up reverently. He tested its weight in his hands before experimentally drawing back the cord and letting it go. The sharp ‘twang!’ sound it emitted was music to the young noble’s audios and he grinned widely even as he reluctantly went to place it back inside the case. A small red light flickered, catching Optronix’s attention mid-move, and he frowned when he realized there was a slim data pad inside the box as well, tucked down one side and almost unnoticeable at first glance because it blended in almost perfectly with the outer casing material until the light hit it just right.

Wheeljack noticed it at the same time, and the engineer was quick to snatch it up with a curious sound. He activated it and tilted it so Optronix could read over his shoulder at the same time as he read it aloud.

“‘My first gift to you, Optronix,’” Wheeljack said, adopting an imperious voice for his impression of the sender. “‘I have high expectations for you, so make me proud. Sincerely, your secret admirer.’ Ooh, goodness, Optronix, you’ve got a serious fan!”

The note was short and to the point, written in a simple but elegant script, but it warmed Optronix all over with delight and, he could admit, a bit of egotistical satisfaction even as his friend continued to tease him.

_He_ had a secret admirer? And obviously a very wealthy one, if his gift was anything to go by… As the noble packed away his new bow and allowed Wheeljack to drag him to class, he tried to think of someone, anyone, who would fit the bill. Was it someone he knew? Somehow, he doubted it. Noble class though he was, he was nowhere near high enough up to be considered worth such a gift without any assurance that their feelings were returned…

Not by anyone sane, anyway.

* * *

Wheeljack was curious. Well, more curious than he usually was about things. Who could have sent such an expensive and thoughtful item to Optronix? Pit, who had the power to arrange for it to be delivered to the mech’s private dorm room in the dead of the night cycle? The box alone had to be worth a small fortune. It was made of imported organic wood and fabrics! He had recognized them immediately even if Optronix’s attention had been drawn elsewhere, and he was still a little shell shocked, in all honesty. Whoever it was, they were out of their slagging processors…

Almost absently, Wheekljack jotted down the notes the teacher was pulling up on the holoprojector while he continued to contemplate the conundrum that was his friend’s secret admirer. The whole situation was strange, but it hardly seemed malevolent. He was positive it was another noble, but who? Maybe Optronix would have an idea? He hadn’t had a chance to ask before they parted ways for their different classes…

Determined to rectify that, the green and white mech opened a text window to Optronix’s work pad and posed his question in a sloppy, eager scrawl, then hit send. While he waited for a reply he fairly vibrated with glee, causing Ratchet to elbow him in the side and hiss that he better be quiet before he got them in trouble again, but that did nothing to damper Wheeljack’s mood. As a matter of fact, it only made him giddier. Optronix hadn’t said it was a secret, now had he?

_‘Optronix got a gift this morning!’_ Wheeljack jotted into the margin of his open file and tilted the pad so Ratchet could see what he had written. He nudged the mech discreetly and ignored the ‘Primus, you’re ridiculous’ glare Ratchet gave him for his efforts because at least it got the mech to pay attention to him.

He knew he had Ratchet’s full attention when the mech hurried to write a reply a bare astrosecond after reading his statement, and he grinned full-on behind his blast mask when Ratchet pushed his own pad under his elbow so Wheeljack could read it while he took his spare pad and began making notes on it instead.

_‘Really? Do you know who it’s from? Does **he** know who it’s from?’_

Wheeljack was about to reply that he didn’t when a text popped up from Optronix. It read, _‘Not a clue. I don’t recognize the print and I don’t know of anyone who would do something like this… I’ve been wracking my processors all morning and I’ve got nothing!’_

He showed the message to Ratchet and then wrote one of his own, saying, _‘It **is** someone with some serious credits to his name though. The gift was a custom-made longbow, Ratch! And it came in a beautiful box made of wood! Like actual organic wood! Can you believe that? Pitch black, with some kind of crimson fabric cushion inside. Finely carved, too. Never seen anything like it before.’_

While Ratchet took that information in, Wheeljack returned to writing his notes like a dutiful student even though it bored him out of his processor. He copied down the schematics on the projector without so much as a double-take – his creators had taught him most of this before he had even gotten into his fledgling shell. It came as easy as cycling his vents! Unfortunately, this was one of the courses he couldn’t just test out of no matter how adept he proved himself to be because it was a mandatory class… But it never kept his attention, and he was soon writing a reply to Optronix’s message instead of listening to the listless drone of the professor on the stage.

_‘So, no idea at all…? I mean, you must have some clue, right? Someone that sticks out in your processor; maybe someone from that charity ball your uncle made you attend while we were on break?’_

A breem after he sent the message, Ratchet’s pad was bumping his elbow again and he glanced sidelong at the hastily jotted questions asking if he was sure that it was real wood, not just a good imitation. He shot the aspiring medic a ‘seriously?’ look and received a pointed glare in return so he just nodded. Yes, he was very sure! Ratchet pulled his pad back and wrote down something else before shoving it at him once more and focusing on the instructor again.

_‘That’s just crazy. Do you think he’s told High Scholar Ratbat yet? Since it’s a bow, I’m assuming not… But he’s going to have to eventually. I hope he knows that, because if Ratbat finds out on his own…’_ Ratchet didn’t have to elaborate on how the High Scholar would go absolutely ballistic. They all knew from Optronix’s stories of the mech just how strict and unrelenting he could be. _Especially_ when it came to things that he didn’t personally agree with…

Optronix’s reply came in while Wheeljack was still traumatizing himself with imagining the High Scholar throwing a tantrum from the distress of someone sending his nephew a weapon, of all things, and he would be forever grateful to have something to take his mind off of the intimidating mech acting like a spoilt sparkling. It was not a pretty image!

_‘No… No one really showed that great an interest, much to Ratbat’s dismay,’_ Optronix’s note read, _‘There were a couple of offers, but they were perfunctory at best. Nothing to suggest an interest that could warrant such items as what I was given, so I’m just as clueless as you, ‘Jack.’_

He sent back, _‘Well, maybe Perceptor will have an idea, you think? At least, he could probably point us in the right direction. He did say during his Material Composition class last semester that there’s a very strict log kept on all imported organic stuff. Went into great detail about it while he was letting us play with the science department’s store of the stuff. Maybe he can find out for us just who is importing such a huge amount of the materials used for your bow’s case._

_‘Also, Ratchet wants to know if you’ve told Ratbat yet. He says you should.’_

_‘No,’_ immediately came back, and Wheeljack tilted his helm in confusion, wondering just what ‘no’ was supposed to mean in relation to his last message before another hastily scrawled note popped up. _‘I haven’t told Ratbat about it yet. I’m holding off for now… Asking Percy is a good idea though. I’ll bring it up at break if we see him. See you then, prof. is getting suspicious.’_

_‘Okay, see you soon,’_ the green and white mech sent back, and then closed the window so he had more room to write notes to Ratchet.

_‘Optronix says he hasn’t told Ratbat yet, but we’re going to ask Perceptor if he has any idea who might have gotten the wood for such a large project so maybe by the time he does tell his uncle, he’ll have definite answers instead of saying, ‘It’s just from some mech I don’t know,’ you know?’_ He nudged the red and white mech with a pede under their joined table once he was finished, and grinned when he got an answering playful bump before Ratchet read his reply.

_‘That’s a good idea… Even having a name won’t negate the fact that his initial gift was a weapon though; that’s something that the High Scholar is very disapproving of where his nephew is concerned and no amount of wealth or political influence will change it…’_ Ratchet wrote back, abandoning his notes altogether so he could focus on the conversation. He knew he could copy off of Wheeljack later and it would be just as good if not better… _‘There can’t be too many options, either way. How many people would have known he needed one, for starters? My guess would be that it came from someone that goes here, or someone related to one of the students or faculty.’_

_‘That would seem logical, right? But who here could afford it on a whim like that?’_ Wheeljack asked.

_‘I don’t know… Whoever it is, they’re definitely paying attention to him.’_

_‘No kidding! It must be so romantic to have someone paying that close of attention to you.’_ The thought made Wheeljack huff, a little wistful and abruptly sober as he moved the data pad to where Ratchet could read it. He wished _his_ love interest would pay him that much attention…

He heard Ratchet’s vents hiss a quiet sigh as the pad was pushed back to him without a response and he risked looking over just in time to see a strange expression he couldn’t fully decipher on his friend’s faceplate. It was only there for a flicker of an instant, but it was still enough to draw his curiosity away from the mystery of Optronix’s secret admirer. Ratchet, for some reason, got like that more and more recently and it never seemed to be over the same thing. What reason did he have to be upset about Optronix’s gift? Without a chance to ask since class was wrapping up, the engineer-in-training tucked the thought away for later analysis. Maybe Firestar and Elita would have an idea of what was wrong since Ratchet himself never seemed to want to open up about it, even going so far as to deny any allegation that something was wrong at all on multiple occasions when just breems later he would be back to sulking about like a lost turbopuppy.


	3. Musing

The next couple of classes seemed to drag on forever for Optronix. He supposed he could have messaged Wheeljack again, or possibly one of the others, to pass the time and keep from going crazy with pent up excitement, but he really did need to pay attention. Professor Sparkplug taught a hard course and it required all of his effort to keep up his grades there. No gift was worth thinking about so much that it interfered with his marks.

His secret admirer had ‘high expectations’ of him, anyway. He couldn’t let the mech down!

When he was finally free for midorn meal the red and blue mech hurried to meet up with Wheeljack and Ratchet so that they could go to the commissary together, still riding high on his excitement from the morning’s events.

The two smaller mechs were waiting for him in their usual spot at the junction of the two corridors that their classes intersected on; the crush of the crowd had them pushed up against the lockers that lined the far wall, but Ratchet’s temper was known well enough that he was at least able to gain them a small circle of space. Because of that, Wheeljack could have his hands free to manipulate whatever model he was working on this cycle without worrying. Optronix often wondered if Wheeljack even noticed the other people around him in times such as these. Probably not, he thought ruefully as he watched the green and white mech tighten a joint of the contraption and chat with the medic-in-training about whatever a scotch yoke was and how they were using it in workshop this semester. Ratchet was his top priority whenever the mech was around.

“Hey, ‘Jack, Ratchet,” he said once he was close enough to not have to yell in order to be heard, grinning at the two when they looked his way. “Ready to refuel?”

“Pit, yeah,” Ratchet grumbled in reply, pushing off of the wall with Wheeljack in tow. “Primus help me, this place is a madhouse… My vote’s on you changing courses for the semester so you’re in a quieter hall during lunch.”

“It’s not that bad, Ratch.” Wheeljack stored his gizmo in his subspace so he could focus on walking, but didn’t pull away from the red and white mech’s hold even after they left the busy corridor in favor of the scenic route outside. “Besides, once Optronix finishes this debate class he’s taking, we don’t have to ever go near that hallway again. It’s not mandatory credits for anyone but him among us. I think we can survive a couple of semesters when you look at it that way.”

The two went off on their own discussing the merits of allowing Optronix to stay in the class. As if they could remove him from it! But the noble liked listening to them argue like he wasn’t there, so he didn’t say anything. 

They could wait it out, Wheeljack said, but Ratchet clearly felt like he was being quite fair when he countered he was willing to compromise by having Optronix get it switched to a different period. This left Optronix to people-watch freely as they exited the Liberal Arts building and the air opened up into the main courtyard - a pastime which he greatly enjoyed after the strain his processor had been put under trying to find counter-arguments for the last two joors. At least, he was free until Ratchet remembered with great remorse that the only period it was offered was the one they just completed and turned to give him a hurt look, as if he had purposely planned the entire thing that way to torture him.

He was saved having to defend himself from the unjust accusation hanging off of Ratchet’s glossa when two slim, brightly colored figures shouted at them a moment later and detached from the throng coming out of the building adjacent to theirs. Optronix grinned as the two, Firestar and Elita, cut through the decorative hedge that separated the parallel paths to reach them, and waved in return greeting while silently thanking Primus (and Prima, for the femmes were under her rule) for their timely arrival.

“Good light cycle, femmes,” Wheeljack said with exaggerated courtesy, bowing low as the two femmes giggled and swatted at him. Ratchet just snorted in typical Ratchet fashion at the three’s exuberance but he smiled when the taller of the two, Firestar, brushed elbows with him a klik later, and Optronix obligingly held his arms open for a hug from Elita that was quickly given.

“You two staying on campus today?” he asked conversationally while he began walking again, to which both femmes nodded.

Firestar replied, “We don’t have a choice. I’ve got that makeup test for Cultural History. I thought I could get out of it when I got that virus and had to go to the hospital, you remember? But no such luck. And then practice at the archery range this evening even though Professor Kup said I could have a free pass this orn since I’m still recovering.”

The words ‘archery range’ made Wheeljack all but vibrate with delight, and Optronix felt a thrill of exhilaration as well, though he thought he hid it better as he kept to the discussion at hand while Ratchet shushed the other mech and distracted him by pointing out something up ahead.

“That blows. Although if it’s the test I’m thinking, you should be fine; you know all about ancient noble practices for, like, every city-state on Cybertron!” the red and blue mech complimented his friend, smiling when she shot him a grateful look for the reassurance. “I’m glad you’re sticking around though, ‘cause I’ve got some really awesome news! I was hoping we’d find Percy so I could tell him too, but with that class he’s got–”

“Found him!” Wheeljack announced, distracting the others as he gestured to where the young professor was coming toward them, his arms full of energon cubes which Elita hurried forward to assist him with.

Perceptor nodded his thanks to the femme and together they doled out energon before searching for a suitable resting place in the packed courtyard. While they looked, he said, “Hello, friends. How fares your orn?”

A chorus of ‘fine’ and ‘awesome’ replied back and that seemed to satisfy Perceptor while they looked for an empty table. They found one on the far edge of the courtyard and although the table was partially shaded by the building behind it and somewhat out of the way, which made it unsavory for the orn’s nice, warm weather, the group claimed it eagerly.

Ratchet pulled Wheeljack to sit on the least shaded bench so they could enjoy the warmth of Hadeen’s light (Optronix figured it was only fair because their courses after midorn meal were in the basements of the building their respective trades occupied; they wouldn’t even have the option of windows for almost three joors, only ventilation systems). While they did that, Firestar and Elita had a rapid fire debate in Yussian over who knew what as they set their cubes down on the other warm bench, and that left Optronix and Perceptor to settle atop the shaded seat with the steel gray building at their backs. Not that they minded. They were just grateful for an elevated perch instead of the sparse, itchy, drying crysgrass. The typically dense foliage was withdrawing into the ground until the next good rain and its inflexibility during such times was rather uncomfortable!

Elita crowed in triumph when she won whatever she and her mate were discussing, cutting into Optronix’s musings; he glanced at the bonded pair in time to see Firestar being a good sport as usual as she sat down and immediately had an armful of pink femme and dermas against her own. He knew them well enough to know that the two femmes would be off in their own world for a moment, so Optronix turned his attention to Perceptor, asking, “Isn’t the class you teach before break usually really rowdy? You’re never out on time, much less early enough to snag a meal for us before the rush hits…”

“Oh, yes, well… I had the orientation committee switch that class to last period for me for the semester,” the smaller mech said, smiling with rare mischief in his optics as he tapped his fingers along the edge of his cube to some unheard beat. “I did warn them… Now I can hold them for as long as I feel necessary after class without worrying that they will disrupt another class by being late. I have a feeling that they are not going to like me much once they see how serious I am about it. Really, who takes an advanced course and then messes about the whole time?”

The other three mechs grinned at the affronted tone but wisely left it alone. Learning was of utmost importance to Perceptor, evidenced by his many academic accomplishments at such a young age and the fact that he was _still_ learning while also being a full-time instructor at the academy. Of course he wouldn’t understand the desire to let loose once in awhile!

Optronix voiced the other (more important) they were all thinking, however. “I’m glad you’re cracking down on them. But aren’t you worried about them cutting into your evening?”

“Not in the least!” Perceptor laughed, waving a teal hand in a negating gesture. “I just make them sit there and finish their assignments while I grade work from my other classes or start on my own homework. There is no time lost at all.”

“I think we can all agree that that’s a relief,” Ratchet put in sincerely. He was watching Wheeljack though; the petite green and white mech was practically vibrating out of his armor. “But speaking of relief… Optronix, wasn’t there something you wished to share? Before ‘Jack combusts, preferably. I don’t want to have to get my paint touched up just yet.”

Wheeljack pouted at the medic-in-training for that jab, but the expression just rolled off him like so much water as he turned his attention to the red and blue mech across from them.

That caught Firestar’s attention and she pulled out of the kiss she had been sharing with Elita with only a little reluctance. “Oh, yeah! What were you going to tell us, Ops?”

Perceptor made a curious sound and looked at the larger mech as well. Being the center of everyone’s attention made Optronix flush even as a silly little grin broke out over his features. “Well… I suppose I have some kind of suitor. See, I woke up and found a gift in my dorm–”

Elita and Firestar squealed in delight before he could finish his sentence, reacting in typical romantic fashion at the thought of someone (anyone - it didn’t matter who) receiving presents of any sort before he could say anything else. Optronix knew his body language gave away the details his words did not, and they were always the first to pick up on such things. Thankfully, he was saved trying to say anything else because at the exact moment that Firestar began demanding information, the dam holding Wheeljack’s words broke and the flood started.

“It’s the greatest thing ever!” Wheeljack burst out. “The most beautiful bow I’ve ever seen, custom built and everything! And it came in a case made of organic materials!”

“Organic materials?” Perceptor asked at the same time as Elita said, “Oooh, I can’t believe it! How exciting! Who is it?”

Optronix latched onto the question he knew the answer to (in a manner of speaking) and explained that he didn’t know who it was while Wheeljack elaborated for Perceptor, his hands gesticulating rapidly in his excitement.

“Definitely organic. Pitch black wood and some kind of soft, smooth fabric in this lovely crimson color… Primus, Perceptor, it had to have cost a fortune, and it was so gorgeous!” the engineer-in-training sighed dreamily. “It’s too bad we don’t know who it’s from but we thought you might be able to find out because you can access the import records for such materials? I mean, it’s gotta be someone really high up who is interested in Optronix pursuing a warrior’s career because why else would they send him a bow instead of, say, play tickets?”

“I’d say they’re probably a warrior themselves. The Commanding General?” Ratchet mused thoughtfully. “He’s fairly young still…”

“But he’s been bonded for vorns now. Why would he express interest in some academy student without saying who he is or being more direct?” Wheeljack asked in return.

Optronix shook his head, interjecting with, “It can’t be. I’ve seen the Commanding General’s script before. My uncle has many files from him come across his desk, you know? He’s all about functionality, very short and choppy; nothing like the elegant writing of my ‘secret admirer’.”

The femmes nodded in acceptance of that logic. Firestar put in her two cents with, “He’s not even cute, anyway. You wouldn’t want a suitor like that. If I wanted a mech, I’d want someone more like, hmm…”

“Like the Simfurians? Oh, like their ruler, Grimlock!” Elita giggled. “He’s a hunk of delicious metal, let me tell you!”

At the weird looks they got from the other three, Elita asked, “What? You thought we didn’t like mechs or something? We can still look, you know! And Grimlock is _dreamy_. His brothers aren’t bad either…”

“No, it’s more… When did you ever see a Simfurian?” Ratchet asked carefully. They knew well how easily the femmes were to offend when questioned. Thankfully, this seemed to be one of the times where they were too excited to share; they simply didn’t have the energy to waste on being upset at their friends for not knowing something that was obvious to them.

“Silly, Simfur is right on Yuss’ southern border! We get imports and news from them all the time!” Elita said, the ‘duh!’ blatant in her tone and expression. “They’re friendly enough even if most of them are behemoths in comparison to us…”

Perceptor hummed thoughtfully. The sound drew the others’ attention back to him, although this was obviously not his intention. 

“You know,” he said, acknowledging reluctantly that he was being stared at. “It’s an idea. It doesn’t necessarily have to be an Iaconian… I could only make assumptions as to where they might have learned of you, but it wouldn’t be unheard of for a noble from one city-state to court a mech from another, Optronix. But then, the suitor being foreign would make the situation all the more curious. Why would they send such an extravagant gift without the guarantee of an accepted courtship? I find it hard to believe that someone with so much money could be that big a fool.”

His tone spoke volumes of the thought niggling at all of them. Optronix _was_ exceptional as both a person and an investment, but to the point that the mystery mech was willing to throw away untold numbers of credits so soon to one who was not even guaranteed to him? Someone with that many credits and, presumably, the political influence to match, couldn’t possibly be so naïve.

After letting his words sink in, Perceptor elaborated further. “The price I’m estimating the bow to be at based on description is exceedingly steep, but when you factor in the materials for the case - organic fabric and arguably the rarest wood in our planet’s possession - the list of mechs and femmes capable of affording such decadence narrows to near nonexistence. Only a very small handful of them are here in Iacon, and fewer still that would have any interest in someone who is eons younger than them.

“To say that they are the elite of the elite is putting it mildly, if we’re being frank. Most of those with so much to spare are so high up the ladder that one would require an intergalactic telescope to see their vapor trails, as the expression goes.”

“The whole situation is unlikely, isn’t it? Thinking it could be an outsider makes it sound downright crazy,” Optronix said, looking down into his cube of energon. “You’re right about the price, I’m sure… It’s crazy. I just don’t get it at all.”

Ratchet leaned over to pat his forearm sympathetically while Wheeljack asked Perceptor, “So, _are_ you able to look at the trade records for us?”

“What? Oh, yes. But… Iacon doesn’t deal in any of the darker woods. If it _is_ someone here, they would have to deal with a third party. As far as I know, Kaon and Simfur are the only ones, but Mebion is also an option. They enjoy such things in all their color variations.”

“Mebion? The minibots?” Elita giggled as she finally moved out of Firestar’s lap so she could start refueling. “Imagine Optronix with someone even smaller than us!”

“Not all Mebionites are that small, just most of them,” Firestar reminded her mate, though she, too, giggled at the image of Optronix being courted by what essentially looked like a fledgling in his first set of armor. “The only question that needs to be answered is, ‘What kind of mech does _Optronix_ want it to be?’”

“Very true, my love! After all, Optronix hasn’t been on a date in forever… Perhaps his desires have changed?” Elita waggled an optical ridge at the tall mech obscenely. “Maybe you want a big, burly Kaonite or a feral Simfurian… Or perhaps you’ve changed sides altogether and will ditch your suitor before he gets too far into you and just take us up on our offer of a threesome?”

Optronix made a face that had both of the femmes laughing even as Elita struggled to say, “Oh, we know, we know! Haha, Prima, the look on your face… But, but really! What _are_ you waiting for? An engraved invitation to get a love life?” then proceeded to bust up laughing again at the all too predictable flush that swept across pale grey cheek plates.

Ratchet intervened while Optronix was still sputtering that he didn’t need a love life, shaking his head good naturedly as he urged the femmes to retake their seats.

“Give the mech some space, ya gossip mongers,” he growled. “You’d think you have nothing better to do…”

“Too true! And getting off-topic, too!” Wheeljack chided them, though the soft blue that lit his headfins was telling. He couldn’t be upset at them for something so trivial, especially if Optronix wasn’t upset by it. Embarrassed, sure, but he was not mad.

Elita waved a hand dismissively. “Fine, fine. Simfur and Kaon are both warrior states, either way. It’s understandable why they would encourage Optronix to embrace his inner brawler,” she giggled.

Wheeljack leaned back until he was teetering precariously on the edge of the bench, a cube in one hand and the other hand drumming thoughtfully on his lower lip component. “I didn’t think Iacon had any ties to them though. Sure, the wars are long over, but…”

“Iacon keeps in contact with all of the other city-states as a matter of course,” Optronix said informatively, glad to finally have some worthwhile input to share again even though he was still battling his blush into submission. “War or no war, we try to at least keep on speaking terms with everyone. My uncle says it’s so that if something happens, we can notify the relevant states quickly.”

“That’s understandable, but doesn’t explain how one of them might have found out about you,” Wheeljack interjected.

That gave them all a moment of pause before Optronix recalled something else the High Scholar had told him about.

“I dunno about Simfur, but there are a couple of Kaonites that came on official business about halfway through last semester that might have had the opportunity,” he said slowly, testing the idea out in his CPU. “I doubt one of them would have the credits for this, but perhaps someone they know?”

“But we’ve no proof that information brought back by them reaches only the Kaonites. Kaon and Simfur have a good relationship, from what I understand. For that matter, Kaon is on good terms with Vos, as well, so that puts another city-state into the mix. Unfortunately, it seems there isn’t much more to discuss at this time,” Perceptor put in between sips of his fuel. Even he sounded a little put out by that fact. “I don’t have any way of giving you more information on the potential suitor at this time without some research. Only speculation awaits should we follow this train of thought, and most of it too wild to be possible if Firestar and Elita have any say in the matter.”

They all had to concede that. Without more evidence, there was no way to tell who it was or where they were from. Only time would tell, it seemed.

“So what now, then?” Optronix asked.

“Well, how about how you’re going to take care of your new bow?” Wheeljack asked. “I mean, the bow’s in perfect condition, Ops… You’ve gotta make sure your mechservant knows how to take care of something like that! I know a few good tips for the mechanics of it, but not the cord or anything else. Or are you just going to do it yourself?”

“Yeah, and when do the rest of us get to see it? I want to compare it to mine!” Firestar insisted. Her bow was her pride and joy, as they all well knew, and everyone could see from the look in her optic that she was just dying to compare it to a foreign weapon.

Optronix shrugged, broad shoulders lifting slowly as if burdened before dropping back down. “I think I’ll just do it myself, ‘Jack. I don’t feel like it would be appropriate to entrust something like that to my mechservant. It’s _my_ responsibility, isn’t it? Like a first pet or something.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea. Professor Kup should be able to tell you how to care for it,” Ratchet said helpfully.

“Definitely,” the red and blue mech agreed before answering Firestar. “Well, I’ll have it at practice tonight so you’ll see it then. I’ll be there a little early so Kup can check it out and make sure it’s safe to use.”

“I’m sure it will be. Why would someone send it if they didn’t want you to use it?”

“Who knows?” Optronix asked with a shrug. “I’m not taking any chances though!”

“At least that’s one mystery that can be easily solved,” Perceptor put in with a wry smile after finishing off his energon. “Keep me posted, will you? I’m most curious to know the identity of this secret admirer of yours now… But I fear it is time for me to depart. I have a lab experiment to prepare for.”

The rest of the group groaned in unison but wished the professor luck in his endeavor before he took off at top speed toward the science sector. Once he was gone, Optronix looked at his chronometer and realized with mortification that most of their break had been taken up by chatter of his morning’s events. He had meant for it to be a quick announcement, not a half joor debate!

While he mentally bemoaned that fact, Ratchet got up, empty cube in hand.

“I’m gonna head off, too. I’ve got practical exams today and I need to make sure my kit is together. You sticking around or coming with, ‘Jack?”

Predictably, the engineer-in-training all but leapt to his pedes in his haste to go with Ratchet. The sudden movement nearly spilled what was left of his fuel in the process; he didn’t seem to notice as he knocked what was left back and said, “Of course I’m going to walk you to class. Don’t I always?”

Optronix knew he wasn’t the only one that noticed the slight stiffening of Ratchet’s chassis when Wheeljack looped an arm through his and waved farewell to the rest of them. The only one who never seemed to notice was Wheeljack himself. It was getting really sad, honestly…

Just before they were out of audio range, the three remaining at the table could just make out Wheeljack asking, “So what is the exam on this time? Don’t tell me your instructor will be opening his interface panel again!”

The reminder of an exam from the past had even Optronix chuckling. Wheeljack had been so mortified at the idea of their instructors possessing interface equipment that he had about blushed into deactivation! Firestar and Elita were nowhere near as dignified in their amusement; the two femmes broke out in peals of laughter and damn near fell out of their seats.

Once they calmed down again, Firestar decided to be the voice of reason.

“I suppose we should bounce too, hmm?” she asked her smaller mate. “If we hurry, we can probably find Fasttrack and get him to sit with us. That’ll really torque Zeta off.”

“You’re awful!” Elita snickered as the two of them got up.

“You love it and you know it.” Firestar kissed Elita when the pink femme leaned closer to her as if to scold her. “And you do worse all the time, so don’t even start!”

“And you know _you_ love it!” Elita countered, her tone decidedly seductive as one hand trailed down Firestar’s chest plate.

Firestar snorted and pushed Elita away, but didn’t deny it. She turned back to Optronix with a smile instead. “We’ll see you and your bow at training, Ops. Wait for us by the fountain, okay?”

“Of course,” Optronix agreed easily enough. The femmes took that as their cue to leave, tossing their empty cubes in a recycle bin as they passed by, and Optronix finally took a moment to relax once they were gone. It always did him good to talk things out with his friends and knowing that they were just as curious about his secret admirer eased his processors somewhat. With all of them considering it, surely it wouldn’t be too long before they figured it out…


	4. Chapter 4

Barricade and Soundwave occupied themselves by continuing to keep an optic on Optronix in the orns following the delivery of the bow; they had little else to do while they waited for orders on what to do next, after all. And really, the bow had been so well-received that they couldn’t help themselves if they tried! It was always a delight to see a young mech expressing such interest in honing his skill, no matter that he was a foreigner that neither of them had so much as spoken to personally.

The tall blue Kaonite, in particular, was exceptionally well suited for the task of watching after their Iaconian charge during the long joors of the light cycle. Being a tape-deck did have a very distinct advantage, after all, even if he was hesitant to use it at first. He had brought his creations to Iacon for the experience; who would ever think that he might use them to look in on a certain someone?

No one questioned the sight of two little cyberospreys flitting about the place though, he had quickly realized. Soundwave mentally thanked his mate for the coding that granted Laserbeak and Buzzsaw such splendid camouflage probably a dozen times an orn, and prayed for their safety in this strange land at least twice as much.

He watched as they dove off the balcony of their shared suite for the third orn in a row with a protective frown. Even if he had not suggested it, he thought that they might have gone on their own… They were just ever so curious as they flitted amongst the crystals and buildings!

Sighing, the tape-deck turned away once they were specks in the distance and left his private chambers. Perhaps he should seek out Barricade to hear how Optronix had fared at weapons training? It would help keep his mind off the things he could not control.

He found Barricade in the open space that served as a living room between their opposite ends of the suite, but did not have a chance to speak before Barricade’s soft baritone piped up with:

“Stop worrying.”

Barricade didn’t look up; he could hear on the light tread that it was no Iaconian servant. Light, yes, but still too heavy to be any of the smaller mechs that surrounded them these orns. And he did not need to look to know that Soundwave was fretting over his littles.

Soundwave slumped physically as he entered the room proper and took a seat where he would not be in the way of his black companion’s work, but still be within polite speaking distance.

“I cannot and you know it,” the tape deck sighed. “But I promise not to mope. Much.”

“It is illegal to hunt fliers of any kind in Iacon city,” the petite mech replied while studying the edge of a blade. He then brushed his thumb against it experimentally and nodded in satisfaction.

The words were matter-of-fact, but Barricade’s body language softened, offering reassurance that Soundwave readily latched onto.

“I know, but you know that no law stops everyone…” He was willing to trust Barricade’s conviction though, if nothing else. He would not have let Laserbeak and Buzzsaw out at all if Barricade thought them in any danger after his scouting!

Deciding a topic change was in order, Soundwave leaned forward in his seat to catch the darker Kaonite’s optic. “But I came out here because I would like to hear about what you observed last cycle, not analyze my clinginess to my little ones.”

Barricade put down the knife he was cleaning and looked up at Soundwave in turn.

“You want to know how the young Optronix did at his archery training, you mean.”

“Yes,” Soundwave answered not-so-patiently. His kibble was still stiff with nervousness and he did not like being toyed with besides, so he made no effort to hide his feelings. “I would like to hear about his training. That is definitely the better topic here.”

Barricade shook his head at the too tense posture of the other. If things were different for them (Soundwave not having a mate, for one thing), he would have suggested something relaxing for them both. But… ah, well, a little celibacy never killed a mech. Not even an extended bit of it.

“It certainly is a good topic,” he said instead. “He is not as hopeless as I actually expected. That legal guardian of his is no fun at all, however. I am surprised he even allows the poor youngling to take any training, least of all a leisure course like archery.”

Soundwave made a sound of consternation and folded his hand in his lap. It was as they had feared when they first started looking into Optronix and High Scholar Ratbat’s relationship then.

“To be fair, Optronix is not really a youngling, is he?” he asked. “He has reached the Iaconian age of majority. The High Scholar cannot _stop_ him from doing anything.”

That did not seem to hinder the mech in trying, of course…

“True, he isn’t a youngling legally,” Barricade conceded, “but he is loyal to his family. And still so very young compared to…” He hesitated and then shrugged lightly and picked up the knife again. Even here in their safe quarters, they did not often say the name now on the tip of his glossa. But Soundwave would know, and true to form, the tape deck nodded in agreement and Barricade caught the tell-tale shift of optics behind the mech’s visor that denoted his attention trailing away for a moment.

The tape deck recovered quickly enough, and no apology was necessary as his gaze refocused on Barricade’s considering expression.

“Yes, well… Controlling relatives aside… How is Optronix’s progress then, if he is not hopeless?” he prompted his companion.

Barricade smiled, but his optics were firm on the blade he was carefully inspecting as he replied, “He is actually doing very well. Not as well as any Kaonite could be expected to at this age, but not as bad as one might fear from a scholarly family such as the one he is in. His still target aim is impeccable and his moving target accuracy does not suffer drastically until they are running. Multiple targets, however… Well, we shall say he needs some work.”

“I see.”

Soundwave was relieved. He did worry that after everything, Optronix might just not be good for his dear friend and Warlord; any assurance to the contrary was appreciated! And competence in weaponry might not seem like much to most, but Megatron was not most. He needed someone who at least knew which end to point at the enemy!

Soundwave watched Barricade flip the blade and study it from another angle for a moment longer after no further comments were made, then prompted the black mech again when he refused to be forthcoming with the information he held, stating, “He has quite a good instructor, I understand.” There was an inquisitive lilt in his tone.

“You’d not be wrong,” Barricade replied nonchalantly. He did relent somewhat though, offering before Soundwave’s patience was tried too much, “Kup is very good, if old. I would not mind studying under him, though I am far more curious about his young assistant at present…”

Soundwave’s train of thought derailed, leaving him wracking his data banks for an ‘assistant’ until he came up with one of a broad shouldered red mech that he was sure was called Ironhide.

“His assistant… What could possibly be so interesting about him? He’s quite surly – actually, that answers the question. He probably broods as much as you. You’d make great company for one another.”

“Oh, haha, we are not even nearly of a companionable age,” Barricade grumbled while he waved the knife at Soundwave as if chastising an impudent sparkling. “No, there is something about the way he handles weapons and teaching that is uncannily familiar. I can’t quite place it…”

The darker mech frowned thoughtfully, sweeping gaze stilling as he struggled to put the feeling to coherent thought. He gave up after a moment of patient silence from Soundwave, shrugging dismissively.

“I don’t know, really, but it is his blade of choice mostly, I suppose. He wields a short, curved sword. It is a rare weapon even in Kaon but he uses it with ease. And I’ve not seen another Iaconian with anything of the sort at all.”

“Ah, a more professional interest. I had wondered. Your arousal gives me processor aches and I am distinctly lacking one, so that should have been my first clue,” Soundwave continued to tease as if he did not have a knife wielding assassin sitting mere meters away from him, but it was affectionate, not cruel.

“Oh you are a riot this dark cycle,” Barricade answered dryly, his smirk calling Soundwave’s bluff with ease.

The tape deck shot back without missing a beat, “I like to think I’m a delight to be with,” and felt himself relaxing as his energies were diverted to contemplating the little mystery. They both knew he had Barricade to thank for it. Even if it wasn’t about Optronix, it was still fascinating!

“So, tell me what you’re thinking,” he requested of the smaller Kaonite. “Where would he have gotten the weapon, and who would teach him to use it if not an Iaconian? I think we would be alerted if a Kaonite crossed borders without proper procedure.”

“I don’t think it’s anything like that. You and I both know that Kaonites have left our city-state under certain circumstances before… This Ironhide mech isn’t very spiky looking, anyway, but his armor is too heavy and he is a good helm or two taller than most of the other young mechs. I’m just wondering… Perhaps not first generation Creation, but I do speculate some form of Kaonite coding.”

He paused a moment, then smiled sheepishly.

“Or it could be wishful thinking. He could have coding from any of the other war-code inclined states.”

“That’s true. Is it worth looking into, you think?” Soundwave asked. “It’s difficult enough sneaking around after one youngling, but to snoop on two… It would be nice to know if we’ve got kin here though.”

“And it would be nice to know if someone with Kaonite coding and Kaonite training is influencing young Optronix,” Barricade flicked his claws against the blade, making it hum a short, sweet note. Satisfied with his cleaning he put it down for good and picked up the next in the set.

“I don’t think we need to spy on him to figure out who he is though. A simple break-in and hack would do nicely. The Academy vets its teachers and the teachers’ assistants.”

Soundwave made a contemplative sound. Barricade did have a point. It _would_ be comforting to know that Optronix was learning properly, and not just for them. It would ease their master’s processor greatly!

“I think you are right. I shall have Ravage take a look for us,” he offered, already reaching out to his drone through their bond. “Easier for him to get around than you, and I’m sure he would love to stretch his legs. Rumble and Frenzy have been up his aft practically since we got here for proper entertainment and he is just about stir crazy since Steeljaw did not come with us.”

“If he wants to, I trust him to be discreet. But why didn’t you bring that other felidea drone of yours?” Barricade questioned curiously. He didn’t have a drone of his own and so couldn’t fully understand the drone bond, but he knew what every Kaonite knew, and that told him that a drone bond should not be so stretched out as it would undoubtedly be at such a distance!

“He is not mine,” Soundwave explained with a helpless shrug of one bulky shoulder while simultaneously filling his drone in via their bond as to what he wanted him to go do, “not exactly. He is Ravage’s mate. He didn’t bond to me or to Sixshot, though not for lack of trying on our part. Unicron alone knows why he hasn’t… We’ve had him for a while now so you would think a bond would form, but it hasn’t. And he did not come because he is keeping Sixshot company. I suppose they felt bad that I was bringing all of our creations?”

Ravage had been unusually tight lipped about it, so he honestly didn’t have an explanation better than that!

“So… he is unbonded? Isn’t that a bit inconvenient? What if he bonds someone and has to leave Ravage… Or, well, I don’t actually know how drones mate. Is it like some wild creatures - mate and leave - or is it more like us? I never studied drones.” Usually the black mech wasn’t all that curious about them. But something about Soundwave’s posture was… interesting, or at least teased his curiosity.

“As I understand it, they are mated for life and Steeljaw will not leave him. Ravage has made quite clear that he will have no other, also,” Soundwave explained. “So, like us, I suppose. No matter how inconvenient it might be, there’s nothing to be done now but hope for the best.”

Soundwave paused a beat, just long enough to let that sink in, before adding pointedly, “But you know… If you were to consent to a drone of your own, you’d have more knowledge of them. The Iaconians will be looking for that type of information sooner rather than later, Barricade.”

“And what kind should I saddle myself with, then? Graceful flier? Stealthy quadruped? Or a pretty, deadly insectoid?” Barricade shrugged and put up a credible theatrical expression, “Oh, the horror of choosing! And the horror if something I do not want chooses me!”

He flapped a hand, fingers spread, before turning somewhat serious again. A grin still flittered about his dermas though.

“I’m young yet, plenty of time to choose a drone and spoil it rotten. As for Iaconian curiosity, I do know the basics, and my Creators did have Avisea, both of them. So I do remember a little of the flier types. Besides, we haven’t been given leave to tell all that much of them.”

“You’re such a dramatic mech when you want to be,” Soundwave laughed softly. “But even for all that, you know it won’t be long if we do well here with the negotiations. And the more our extracurricular activities teach us, the better equipped we are to handle said negotiations and speed them along. With any luck, we’ll have signed documents by the end of the groon and we’ll be well on our way to a happy ending for everyone.”

Barricade dropped any and all theatrics, expression becoming serious and somewhat cold.

“I don’t believe it will be so easy. There are those that would have this end in a fiasco. Not all Iaconians wish for a signed treaty; until I know more of them I dare not guess why, but they are there… The High Scholar, Ratbat, is one of them, though I am fairly certain that is a result of him not trusting anyone who knows which end of a blade to hold more than any personal ill will.”

“You believe they’ll bring forth opposition that can counter my expertise and determination? Why, Barricade, I had no idea you thought so poorly of my abilities.” He was being the dramatic one now and they both knew it. Soundwave sighed though, and grew somber quickly. “They won’t find flaw or loophole in our offer. It is a _good_ offer! Only absolute refusal of peace will see this fall and many in the council do not wish for that.”

“No one wants war, Soundwave, but are they truly willing to pay the price? Even we think it somewhat archaic…” He was referring to Soundwave and himself. Even knowing that the Oracle itself had sent Megatron here, where they had scant options to begin with… To pay for lasting peace with a spark bond? No matter that the young one would be offered the usual chance to refuse, it was a pretty outdated method.

Optronix did not seem like the type to refuse for his own sake though. He was much more like the type to say yes for the good of the many. They both knew it, as evidenced by what Soundwave said next.

“I do not think they will truly try to turn away. Archaic though it may be it is not unreasonable or unheard of to make or accept such a request. I think we have more to fear from our Lord’s Intended than the council in that respect, and he does not appear to be much of a threat at all.”

“The only danger from Optronix seems to be his tendency to do too much,” Barricade shrugged but agreed, though he was not entirely convinced that everyone on the council would back down so easily. He hoped they would, however; Soundwave and his younglings shouldn’t be parted from their respective mate and co-Creator for too long, or the felidea drone from his mate.

Almost as an afterthought, he mused, “And possibly that medic in training he is friends with. The somewhat emotionally dense one that is prone to temper fits?”

“Have faith, young one,” Soundwave said, though not unkindly as he also laughed at the mech’s rather apt description of Optronix’s friend Ratchet. “Do you really think the gods would have parted with the information that brought us here if they thought lord Megatron not fully equipped for the task? Of course there will be obstacles. Nothing we cannot overcome if we keep our wits about us.”

“I’m not that young, Soundwave,” Barricade grunted with some amusement. He just had a different perspective to what the tape deck had, which was why he had been sent with him as another ‘ambassador’.

Well, that and the fact that he could get into Optronix’s quarters without anyone noticing. He would have been a poor Spymaster if he could not!

“Details, details,” Soundwave replied dismissively, waving a hand, and he relaxed fully at last. Barricade had that effect; he was calm, unlike many others that Soundwave regularly associated with, and the tape deck didn’t even need to tap into his surface thoughts to feel it.

Seeing the discussion over (not that it was much of a discussion so much as Soundwave poking fun), Barricade changed the subject as he, too, sank back into the strangely fluffy furniture that the Iaconians had provided. “So when is the next present going to arrive?”

“We should expect it soon; the orn after next, perhaps sooner. I don’t know what it is though. Lord Megatron was quite secretive.”

“So it’ll be seven orn between gifts and just a groon to do the courting? Hm, unless someone stalls. Perhaps our lord should wish for at least one to stall a bit. After all, a proper courting takes at least a vorn!” Even if this would not be a proper courting since Optronix in essence was going to be the price of lasting peace between two peoples, it was still unfortunate!

On the other hand, Barricade grinned, the warlords had plenty of tradition that ignored anything even resembling proper courting and so did the Kaonite noble lines. 

“That was the estimate, I believe. Somewhere between seven and nine orn… He and the winglord spoke about it extensively, trying to figure out what would be best,” Soundwave tried not to remember the emotionally charged processor ache he had gotten from that. Really, Magatron and Starscream only compounded on one another with how strongly they felt everything…

“But you and I both know that the true courting will go on for as long as it needs after Optronix returns home with us, anyway. All will be explained in due time.”

“I do at that, and I certainly do not envy our lord that…” Barricade started, but he trailed off, an unbidden image elbowing its way into his conscious thoughts. To most ranking mecha the guards of the nobles were invisible, simply ‘just there’, but not to him.

There had been a young palace guard at their most recent string of negotiations in particular that had caught his attention and almost think that such efforts for courting might be worth it. He couldn’t be all that much older than Optronix and was much the same build, even. But his optics had been wiser, more mature by far…

“...”

Soundwave tilted his helm curiously at Barricade’s distraction, but gave him a moment to himself before he purposefully cleared static from his vocalizer.

“Barricade? Are you well?” he asked a little too innocently.

“What?” Barricade focused again, looking up at the tape deck with a frown.

“You wandered off into Barricade-land and left me out here by myself,” Soundwave replied pointedly. He wasn’t accusatory in the least, but he _was_ curious!

“Ah, I just remembered something from earlier.” Or rather, ‘someone’. He shook his head and frowned as he bent back over his work.

“It is not important.”

“Indeed. You’ll excuse me for not believing that it is unimportant when it was able to make you stop talking mid-sentence,” the blue mech replied. “But I will not pry. I know that gets me nowhere with you. Unfortunately.” The last word was spoken in a melodramatic grumble, but Soundwave still smiled behind his facemask.

“Let me rephrase then,” Barricade said wryly, “it is unimportant to the mission. Perhaps I will pursue it if there is time, but if not I will not suffer for not having my curiosity satisfied. I’m not like your drone.”

The tape deck chuckled. “I would be offended on Ravage’s behalf if you were not so accurate about his mannerisms.” Ravage was almost unbearably curious, even at his rather ripe age; it got him in trouble more often than Soundwave cared to admit. He could not fault anyone for using it as an example!

“But I will take your word that it is not particularly life altering at this time and go back to the subject at hand. You were saying you do not envy lord Megatron…?”

“I do not envy him having to explain all this to his pretty little Intended!” Barricade said with emphasis. “I do however think that if anyone on this world will forgive the deception, it will be young Optronix. My only worry is that he will be too attached to this fantasy mech by the time all of this is done with and he can come to Kaon…”

“Ever with the pessimism… It is not an unfounded worry though, I know. I have my concerns as well,” Soundwave shook his helm a little, “and I’m not sure that Megatron himself has considered it. After so long without an answer to his plight, I can only hope he is still thinking strategically now that he has it.”

“If he makes sure that the deception is nothing more than in name…” Barricade trailed off, and then shook his head.

“You are his friend, and far more of a diplomat than I, perhaps you should gently remind our lord of how impressionable young mechs can be?”

It was hard not to sound as lost as he felt; Soundwave gave it a shot anyway.

“How does one remind a ticking time bomb to mellow out, again? You know how long he’s been looking, the time and emotional energy spent on what we were all starting to think was a hopeless endeavor.”

“Perhaps by telling him that what is found can be lost again?” Barricade huffed, knowing well what Soundwave was speaking of.

“You are looking, yourself. If you did what our lord is doing… would you not want someone to remind you of the possible pitfalls of the plan?”

“Of course! But I am much more… mild mannered than our lord.” That was putting it politely. Megatron felt so intensely sometimes…

“Have either Buzzsaw or Laserbeak on your lap when you talk to him, trust me,” Barricade said that somewhat dryly. Temper or no temper, their lord would never act irresponsibly in the presence of a youngling.

Soundwave chuckled a little at that. “Perhaps I should just send one of them in my stead. He adores them and couldn’t possibly get upset… Oh, but he can be so stubborn, Barricade! And the worst thing when he’s stressed out is when he says things like, ‘We’ll cross that road when we get to it, Soundwave!’ and I could so easily see him saying such a thing. But this is his Intended and one can hope he’ll not take leave of his senses… Right?”

“At least not leave of the sense he needs to do a proper courting!” Barricade sighed and put his knife down, settling back to rub the bridge of his olfactory sensor.

“I don’t think he will be intentionally stupid about this, but he does need to be reminded that his Intended is very young and very impressionable, for all his perceived intelligence. He is a kind mech, and one who has never really been loved openly… I don’t even think he really expects love to happen to him,” he stopped, frowned, and then shook his helm “Ah! You know what I mean. Just remind our lord that what can be fostered to grow can be shattered twice as easily.”

“I can hope it will be so simple.” The words were spoken in a tone that was little more than a sigh of malcontent, but Soundwave was glad to have his fears assuaged by someone else’s logic for once anyway. “I will speak to him when I am next permitted to return home.”

“Good,” Barricade’s comment carried no pity, but a great deal of sympathy. It was not a task he could take from Soundwave though… He was loyal to his lord, and counted him as a mech to trust with his life, or to give his life for, but he dared not call him his personal friend.

Soundwave huffed but chose to leave it at that. Instead, he asked, “Have you seen Optronix get up to anything else that our lord might be interested in? Weapons training seems to take up much of his free time, I’ve noticed. Does he only use the bow? And… is he taking good care of it?”

“His friends and what extra weapons training he can get in take most all of his time, yes. Ratbat not letting him do what he wants to with it inside school joors makes things difficult for him, but he’s quite resourceful,” Barricade replied dutifully, rattling off the answers with ease. “And he takes very good care of it, even keeps it in the box, and always powered off. As for weapon preferences, he’s an axe mech.”

“Mm, yes, he is quite conniving; my fliers have mentioned that he sometimes takes evening meal with him to the training hall instead of refueling with his friends so that he has more time. And an axe mech? With his build, I can see that… Plenty of upper body strength and stamina. I’ll make a mention of it to Megatron. I’m sure he’ll be happy to know.”

Megatron was happy knowing anything he could, even if it was something as basic as ‘he woke up in time to refuel before class for once’. Soundwave would have thought it hilarious if it wasn’t so cute (and also a little sad) that his lord was so smitten with this mech he had not yet met…

The tape deck would have said more, but he was finding it hard to carry the conversation as Hadeen’s light faded completely from the room and the internal lights powered up completely.

“Our lord will be happy for anything that can help him in his suit,” Barricade agreed, but he must have noticed the dimming of Soundwave’s visor, for in the next instant the black mech stood, stretching before pointing at him. “But you should not concern yourself further this eve. Go to your berth, Soundwave. Things are well, and your little hellions will do fine on their own – they are clever! You, however, need recharge if you are going to deal with Iaconian politics all orn. So shoo, off with you, and stop fretting so much!”

“My, are you always this demanding or am I just special?” Soundwave teased coyly. “I’d think you didn’t like my company if you tried to send me away any sooner.”

“You know better,” came the flat reply, followed by an amused quirk of dermas. “I am under strict orders for you to not overwork yourself. _Dual_ orders,” Barricade lifted an optical ridge, waiting for Soundwave to understand what he was saying.

“Dual… Sixshot told you to supervise me?” 

Soundwave was surprised, but not really offended. It wasn’t often that they were apart for such a long duration and he could admit to having done the same to Sixshot, after all. He had three neighbors looking after him right now to make sure he refueled regularly and got out into actual sunlight once in awhile because Soundwave couldn’t be there to do it himself! But Sixshot usually entrusted such a task to Ravage alone…

“He told me to make sure you remembered that recharge existed. I suppose you can call that asking me to supervise you?” Barricade chuckled. “I think it was more of a ‘my mate wants to do too much at once and I want him to come home in a condition where I can frag him into the nearest flat surface’ kind of thing.”

Bemusement entered Soundwave’s tone then. “He makes it sound like I _forget_ that recharge exists, which I don’t do. It’s just not nearly as pleasant when I’m by myself… Nonetheless, I shall dutifully get some rest. You should also, Barricade. Keeping to a schedule is just as good for you as it is for me.”

“I’m not poking that nest of stingers,” Barricade replied, “but yes, I will go to berth too. I just have one more knife to clean first.”

He also had to be up very, very early. Unlike Soundwave, a lot of his work was in finding and using what was already there. Like those neat little surveillance units that had been all over both their quarters. Neat… he loved new toys.

“Shoo, Soundwave, be a good mech and get!”

Laughter returned in Soundwave’s replying, “Yes, Barricade, I’m going!”

Soundwave departed with a wave and was content enough that he was in recharge almost immediately upon crawling into his own berth despite, as he had said, not having anyone else with him. Neither of them was short on work and all the rest in the world would not change that!


End file.
